Salem
by Selene47
Summary: The Doctor, Rose and Mickey find themselves in Massachusetts in 1692, just in time for the Salem witch trials, but something strange is going on...10xRose.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

* * *

**

The Doctor strolled into the TARDIS control room, casually tossing his sonic screwdriver from hand to hand. The central pillar pulsed with a familiar green light; the only indication that they were in flight, apart from the faint whirring, grating noise that sounded like no engine on Earth.

Rose Tyler was settled cross-legged on the floor opposite the Doctor's newest companion, Mickey Smith. Both of them were staring intently at the card game between them, but Rose looked up and grinned as the Doctor approached.

"Come on, where are we going?" she implored for the hundredth time, but her best friend's only reply was a smug smile. Rose rolled her eyes at Mickey and went back to the game, as the Doctor crossed to the other side circular control table around the green pillar. Smiling to himself as he flicked a couple of switches on the control table, the Doctor failed to notice a small, angry red light begin to flash on Rose and Mickey's side.

"Er, Doctor, should it be doing that?" came Mickey's voice, a split second before the TARDIS veered sharply to one side. The Doctor managed to grab the table for support and stay upright, but there was a scream from Rose and a loud curse from Mickey as they both skidded across the floor, cards flying everywhere. They both managed to grab hold of the structures around the edge of the room, the TARDIS giving another sudden lurch before finally coming to a halt. The Doctor shakily straightened up, his companions following suit, Rose swaying and clutching her head.

"Rose?" The Doctor almost dropped his sonic screwdriver as he scrambled towards her. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Mickey grumbled, as the Doctor helped Rose to her feet.

"What happened?" she asked, shaking her head to clear it.. "Where are we?"

"Dunno. Not where we were meant to be going. I think something pulled us down, like a magnetic field." Shoving the screwdriver into his pocket, he put a hand on the door handle and said with a cheerful grin, "Only one way to find out."

* * *

They stepped out of the TARDIS into another time. Looking around, Rose guessed that they were still on Earth, but where and when wasn't so obvious. The street they were standing on wasn't modern. It was wide, cracked from years of heat, and so dusty that sand was kicked up when the Doctor stood aside to let Rose and Mickey past. They stood in bright, hot sunshine in the middle of the road, but buildings threw shadows on the ground to either side and against their backs, forming an old cul-de-sac. The houses were conventional; soft grey stones, with thatched roofs and shutters shut tight against the heat of midday. This was lucky for the travellers; otherwise they would have been in plain sight of anyone looking out of a window.

"So where are we?" Rose asked, as the Doctor carefully examined each building, and then squatted down to rub some of the dust from the road between his fingers. Finally he straightened up.

"Earth," he confirmed. "As for when…it's hard to say. My guess would be some time in the 17th Century, but –"

He was cut off mid sentence as a scream split the air, and the three of them dived for cover behind a wagon at the side of the road. An instant later a woman came into view from the end of the road. Even at this distance Rose could see she was running as if the devil were chasing her, ragged skirts threatening to trip her up but never quite managing it. As they watched, she skidded to a halt, realising she was trapped in the square.

She was a young woman; Rose guessed she was no older than she was, with dark brown, almost black skin, and dirty black hair hanging down her back and clinging to her forehead. Her face and hands were covered in dust from the road, and something darker than dust that Rose realised with a jolt was blood. As she turned her face into view, they saw that one of her green eyes was puffed up and bruised, the other wide with fear, and there was a long cut down one cheek. The woman saw the wagon; recognised it as a hiding place, and started towards it, just as the people she had been running from came into view.

A crowd of people surged down the street towards them; some waved brooms or pitchforks, but all wore the same expression of anger, mingled with horror and hatred, and they were all yelling. At first they were too far away for it to be anything other than a roar, but as they came nearer down the street, the roar became a shout, which became one word, repeated over and over in time with the drumming of feet on the dirt road.

"Witch! Witch! Witch!"

"Well that sorts out the when and where," the Doctor muttered matter-of-factly to Rose and Mickey. "Massachusetts, 1692; start of the Salem witch trials by the look of it..."

But Rose wasn't listening, her attention grabbed by the scene playing out before her. The crowd was closer now, getting closer every second, and one man was breaking away from the front of it, a heavy-looking stick on his shoulder. His face was even more twisted with fury than the others' were. His loose shirt flapped on his lanky frame as his long legs quickly covered the distance.

"_Witch!_" he screamed as he reached the woman, raised the stick over his head. "_Stay away from my daughter, Witch!_"

The dark skinned woman threw up her arms in front of her face as the stick came down, and it connected with a sickening crunch. The woman screamed the same piercing cry for help they had heard before, as her left arm cracked under the blow and she crumpled to her knees. And Rose had never been one to ignore a cry for help. She was on her feet, shaking off the Doctor's restraining hand, running towards the woman as the stick was raised again. The man holding it paused momentarily, surprised by her sudden appearance and strange clothes, and the crowd behind him halted as one, barely ten feet from their leader and his quarry.

"Oi!" Rose yelled, trying desperately to make her legs move faster; even with her there the man had turned his attention back to the black girl, his weapon braced for the attack.

Until Rose's shoulder connected with his stomach, and they both crashed to the ground.

"_Rose_!" She heard the Doctor's footsteps behind her, but she was already scrambling to her feet, rubbing her shoulder. The girl was trying to get up, and she hurried to help. Finally on her feet, the black woman's eyes widened in alarm and focused on something over Rose's shoulder…

THUMP!

Rose staggered and fell as something slammed into the back of her head, black spots exploding in front of her eyes. Landing face down on the road, she lost contact with the world, with everything except the agonising pain spreading from the back of her skull. She felt something wet on her hand, realized she had a hand to her head, realized it was blood. Then there was nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

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**

Mickey saw the Doctor leap to his feet after Rose, and quickly scrambled up after him. They both threw themselves towards Rose as she turned to help the girl and the man raised the stick again, but they were too late. Mickey cried out in anger as his friend folded to the ground. He skidded to a halt in front of Rose, but the Doctor was already there, eyes flashing dangerously as the man went for Rose again.

"Normally, I don't like violence," he told the man conversationally as he grabbed the weapon with both hands, "But just so you know; touch Rose again, and I'll kill you." The dangerous look in his eyes betrayed the calm tone of voice, and the man swallowed, glancing at the black woman, who was staring at him in fear. Mickey gaped helplessly at her as he crouched down beside Rose.

"Move." The Doctor politely shoved him out of the way, gently rolling Rose onto her back and checking her pulse. "She's alive."

Mickey stood up, relief flooding through him, quickly followed by anger. He spun to face the man, who was unsuccessfully trying to rearrange his expression into one of sympathy, his attention obviously still on the girl.

"What're you playing at?" Mickey demanded furiously, hands unconsciously balling into fists. "You could have killed them both!"

"I'm sorry about your friend, but she shouldn't have got in my way." The man growled, trying to grab the weapon from the ground where the Doctor had dropped it. Mickey kicked it away and grabbed the man's arm. He wanted to rip the arm right off, but the Doctor spoke again from the ground behind him.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Why do you think this woman is a witch?" He gestured at the black woman, who had retreated behind him.

"I _know_ she's a Witch," he spat the last word, as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "She bewitched my family; my daughter lies delirious because of this creature's trickery! And to think, I actually paid good money for her." Mickey had to tighten his grip to stop the man from lunging at the "witch".

"You didn't answer my first question," the Doctor said, the anger never leaving his eyes.

"Parris?" someone from the crowd said to the tall man, "Should I get the doctor?"

"No need," said the Doctor. "I'm the Doctor. How can I be of service, Mr. Parris?" The man looked him up and down incredulously, taking in his scruffy pinstriped suit and sneakers.

"You're a doctor?"

"No," the Time Lord sighed patiently, "I'm the Doctor. Pay attention. And good idea by the way, my friend does need medical attention."

"I didn't mean for her!" the man flared up again, then quailed under his fierce stare. "Um, yes, of course she needs attention, but I was meaning for my daughter –"

"Ah, certainly, if you'll wait just one moment..." the Doctor said in falsely polite tones, bent over Rose once more, dug in his pocket for his sonic screwdriver, then glanced up. "This is perhaps not the best company for medical instruments such as mine."

"What do you mean?" Suspicion was growing in Parris's eyes.

"Just that I would prefer it if the angry mob were to...disperse." he explained. Mickey could hear the patience in his voice wearing thin. Parris, who seemed to be the leader of the mob, motioned at the rest of them, and they reluctantly wandered off in twos and threes until only Parris, Rose, Mickey, the Doctor and the accused witch were left.

"I will stay and make sure you keep your word, Doctor," the tall man explained, with barely contained rage, as the Doctor stared pointedly at him. The girl said nothing, but none of them wanted to release her into the mob's clutches, so she stayed.

"OK, just don't burn me at the stake," the Doctor muttered, and produced his sonic screwdriver. Parris sucked in breath loudly.

"What is that?" he demanded. "What are you, some kind of Witch Doctor?"

"No, I'm _the_ Doctor," was yet again the predictable reply. Flicking through settings on the sonic screwdriver, he pointed it at Rose's head.

"Hey, what're you gonna do?" Mickey asked, aghast. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"What do you think? It won't hurt her, if that's what you're thinking. It's on setting 489-C." he added, as if that should mean something. Then, after another second, in a very patient voice, "For head wounds."

"Oh. How silly of me to forget." said Mickey sarcastically, and the Doctor frowned at him, before aiming the sonic screwdriver and setting to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

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**

Rose woke up feeling like she'd been whacked repeatedly round the head with a sack of rocks. The bed underneath her was unfamiliar, definitely not hers at the flat, or in her room in the TARDIS. And she had a splitting headache. She tried to open her eyes, but the sudden light was unbearable, and her head started to throb worse. A noise was coming from somewhere, vaguely familiar, but at this moment she was unable to place it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she groaned and felt familiar hands on her shoulders. The Doctor's voice floated through the darkness.

"Rose? Wake up!"

She mumbled something incoherent, forcing her eyes open again. Sunlight stabbed into them, but the pain was already receding, the oddly familiar noise growing louder and more recognisable; the sound of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver.

"Doctor?" she managed, struggling up onto her elbows, the memories flooding back. "What happened? Did I...save her?"

"She's fine." The Doctor's face appeared as everything came into focus, Mickey looking worriedly over his shoulder at her. Rose smiled to show she was all right, and another spasm jabbed through her head. She tried to ignore it, but the Doctor must have seen the pain in her face, because he fumbled for his screwdriver again.

"No, I'm OK. I'm fine. Really." she insisted, pushing away the hand holding the device. There was something unsettling about having your head fixed as if by magic. Putting her left hand to the back of her skull, she could feel a faint line like a scar, a few inches long. This time there was no blood on her fingers when she brought her hand away.

"Sped up the healing process. You'll have a headache for the next few days, but there'll be no lasting damage. Just don't do it again, it's a bit of a risky process."

"I'll bear that in mind, thanks." Rose staggered to her feet, the Doctor putting a supporting hand under her elbow. It was only then that Rose noticed the third man standing a couple of feet away and looking like that wasn't far enough. The fear was coming off him in waves as he looked at the Doctor.

"Who are you?" the man repeated. "_What_ are you?"

"Sorry," the Doctor slapped his forehead, as if he'd forgotten something. "Rose Tyler, meet Parris. Samuel Parris, if I remember correctly? Samuel, right. Now let's get down to business." He slid the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket and dusted off his hands. "You mentioned something about a bewitching…?"

"I didn't do it!" came an unfamiliar voice from behind them. Parris had spoken with an American accent, but the voice she heard wasn't American or English. Rose turned, a little too quickly, and had to blink spots from her eyes before seeing who had spoken. It was the black girl. Her expression had changed from fear to anger for the first time since they had seen it and she was gripping her ragged, once-black skirts with both fists. As she saw Rose turn, her glare faltered and tears started in her eyes.

"It's OK." Rose hurried forwards and put a hand on her arm. "I'm Rose."

"I know." Something strange passed across the woman's face before it changed to one of fierce fear. "I'm Tituba."

Rose heard the Doctor hiss softly, and she turned with the question on her face. He shook his head slightly, then twitched it almost imperceptibly in the direction of the tall man, Parris. She understood, turning back to Tituba.

"You didn't do it? Do what?"

"Bewitch my daughter, that's what!" Parris cut in before Tituba could reply. "Doctor, you said you would see to her…"

"So I did. Come on, Mickey." He whistled, as if calling a dog, and Mickey shot a glare at his back as the Doctor followed Parris back down the road. Rose started after them, but the Doctor widened his eyes and nodded at Tituba. Rose nodded to show she'd understood, letting the three men draw out of earshot ahead of them before motioning Tituba to follow.

"So what's the story?" she asked as they walked slowly after the other three, and Tituba glanced down at her hands, still clutching her skirts. She began to speak, faltering, tears still threatening to spill over. "Where are you from? You don't sound American."

"No, I'm not. I was born in Barbados." (_Well, that explains the accent,_ thought Rose). "Then one day, a group of people came to my village. They chose me, and another six children of my age or slightly older. We were then taken to America and -" her voice caught, and she finished in a near whisper. "We were sold into slavery. My sister was among them, and the others were all friends of mine."

"What happened to them?" Rose glanced ahead to check they weren't falling too far behind. The Doctor caught her eye as he glanced back, and they exchanged a grin. Something flickered over his shoulder as he turned back and started talking animatedly to Parris, a flash of movement in the shadow of a nearby cottage. She put it down to the head injury playing tricks with her brain – or it could be the after-effects of having your skull mended with a screwdriver. Tituba was answering the question, and Rose hastily turned back to her.

"I do not know. Two were sold before I was. Then Parris chose me and I never saw what happened to the others. Parris brought me to Boston, where I lived with him, his wife and his sister. I was given the duties of a slave, but not treated badly. I was clothed and fed, at least. Then, when I was twenty-three, we moved to Salem, so that Parris could be the minister. By that time Parris had both a daughter and a niece, but his wife and sister had died of a fever the previous year. The niece also died; I was taking care of her at the time, so I expect my master blames me for her death. He never said so though; he was usually civil to me and my other slaves, unless we did something to anger him. It was just him and his daughter by then, so he needed our help to raise her.

"But recently, strange things started happening. I felt like I was being watched, followed. I saw shadows move out of the corner of my eye, when I was out shopping or doing chores outside. I ignored it, but it got worse - it started happening inside the house, when I wasn't paying attention. And then…" She broke off with a sob, casting a fearful glance at Parris's back.

"What happened?" Rose asked softly. Tituba looked at her, some of that fear directed at Rose.

"But you see it too, don't you?" Her voice had changed, grown deeper, and her green eyes were suddenly darker, almost black, the pupils huge chasms. Rose opened her mouth to call for the Doctor, but the words hung unsaid as she felt her mind somehow drifting, detaching itself from her body. "You see the shadows move. You have the eye of the wolf!"

"I don't know what -"

"_It wasn't me_!" The woman suddenly shrieked, striking out. Her nails scraped across Rose's bare arm, leaving long scratches, drawing blood, then she was clinging hard to Rose's forearms, her face a mask of dark terror. "_The monkey made me do it_!"

"What? The what? Doc -"

"Doctors can't help you. If you see the monkey, no one can help you…"

But the Doctor could help. He was instantly there, hauling Tituba away, as Parris screamed again that she was a Witch, she would burn, every last Witch would burn.

"Shut up!" the Doctor bellowed at him, but Rose barely heard. Her mind was even further away, floating free. _It must be the bump on my head. _She somehow thought._ Maybe I should have let the Doctor finish healing_ –

And then all thought was gone, her mind suddenly still and absolutely focused. She didn't even feel his hands in hers or see the look of concern on his face, because she was too busy staring at something over his shoulder, perched on the windowsill of the closest house. A small, grinning monkey.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

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**

Rose was gripping the Doctor's hands so tightly her nails dug into them, but he didn't even notice. The terror in her face wasn't directed at him, but at something past his shoulder, except that when he turned to look he saw only the empty street.

"What is it?" Mickey appeared beside him, asking stupid questions as usual. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know." Frustrated, he rounded on the slave girl. "What did you say to her?"

"I…I don't know…" Tituba was staring at Rose, blinking with as much confusion as the Doctor felt. Impatiently, he turned back to his best friend.

"Rose?" he asked softly, and her eyes quickly flicked to his and then back over his shoulder. "Rose, listen. There's nothing there. Can you hear me?" Rose didn't reply. Mickey hovered irritatingly in the corner of his eye, but the Doctor ignored him. "Rose, it's me. You have to trust me. There's nothing to be scared of…"

Rose's gaze slowly slid back to his face. "…Doctor?" she whispered. He almost hugged her with relief, but didn't want to alarm her until he knew what caused the sudden change.

"It's me. I'm here."

"Do you see that?" she asked, still in a whisper, and the Doctor turned again even though he knew what he would see. He faced Rose again, feeling fear slowly creep into his hearts like cold water.

"Rose, whatever you're seeing, it isn't there. You have to believe me." Aggravated at Rose's lack of response, he grabbed her shoulders, resisting the urge to give her a good shake. "Come on! I know you're stronger than this!" He gripped her shoulders hard, to hide the fact that his hands were trembling, and felt his knees go weak with relief as recognition began to dawn more strongly on her face.

"Doctor, I think something's going on," she said, her eyes clear once more as they fixed on his.

"Me, too. What did you see?" the Doctor asked, hastily letting go of her shoulders and glancing around. Parris was standing a few feet behind him, impatiently tapping his foot; the Doctor felt an uncharacteristic urge to knock his teeth out. Mickey was still standing beside him, and Tituba was shifting nervously from foot to foot behind Rose. There was nothing else in sight. To him, at least.

Rose could still see the monkey. It was small and pale grey, with a ruff of white fur around its neck, long dark tail curled for balance as the monkey sat poised on the window ledge. Its face still stretched in a broad grin, and Rose got the feeling it was laughing at her. What had Tituba said? The eye of the wolf…?

"The what?" the Doctor said sharply, and Rose started. She hadn't realised she had spoken aloud.

"Nothing. Just…" but her voice trailed away, her eyes drawn once more to the grinning creature. She was suddenly sure it was trying to tell her something. Telling her to…pretend like nothing was wrong? "Nothing." She told the Doctor firmly, locking her eyes back onto his Out of the corner of her eye she saw the monkey leap nimbly from the windowsill; a voice in the back of her head began to whisper conspiratorially as it scuttled to her feet.

_The Doctor doesn't want you to think I'm real. I'm here to help you, but he won't understand that – he's blinded by his distrust of other species._

Rose was confused, and angrily protective of the Doctor, but there was no time to argue with the creature. The man Parris was talking again, and Rose felt a stronger surge of anger that she was somehow sure belonged to the monkey.

"Yes, I know! This is your house then?" the Doctor snapped at him, then turned back to Rose. "Maybe you should stay here with the girl, give your head a rest."

Rose was arguing before the sentence was completely out of his mouth, the monkey egging her on from her feet. "No chance. I'm staying with you."

"Yeah, I thought so. Mickey!" He whistled through his teeth, and Mickey almost trotted to his side, then scowled as he realised what he had done. "Stay with Tituba."

"I'm sick of everyone treating me like a flamin' dog!" Mickey grumbled, but he went to stand with the slave girl all the same. Rose snorted, and the Doctor made a noise that could have been a laugh, a sneeze or a mixture of the two.

Parris opened the door to his house, and gestured at the Doctor to follow him. The Time Lord obeyed, pausing long enough to shout: "And stay out of trouble!" at Mickey's back as he led Tituba further down the street.

Rose felt a niggling sensation in the back of her mind, and automatically held out her arm so the monkey could swing onto her shoulder. It was heavy; she could feel little fingers gripping her shoulder through her denim jacket, and the warmth of its tail as it curled around her neck for balance. It was obviously real; why had the Doctor tried to convince her otherwise? Was it true? Was he lying to her? She couldn't believe it, and yet…that voice - so soft, so sure. She followed the Doctor inside.

The monkey whispered to her, and Rose listened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

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**

The inside of Parris's house was as unremarkable as the outside. A large wooden table sat in the centre of the main room, four chairs positioned neatly around it. Lumps of coal lay scattered across the floor from where the bucket that held them had been kicked over and hurredly righted, beside the squat metal stove they would be used for. Pans and utensils hung from hooks on one wall; a fireplace was set in the one opposite. The fire was lit, though it couldn't have been much past lunchtime, and Rose felt herself grow light headed as intense heat washed over the four of them. The Doctor discarded his long overcoat, and she followed suit, throwing her jacket over the back of one of the chairs as the monkey danced nimbly out of the way.

"She's through here." Parris explained as the Doctor looked at him expectantly. He led them through a low doorway into a slightly smaller room, with a low, wide bed that looked to be stuffed with straw, and a highly polished chest of drawers against one wall. There was another, much narrower cot in the corner; it was barely big enough to fit a child, straw was poking trough holes in the thin mattress cover, and there was no blanket or pillow. Feeling sick, Rose knew it was Tituba's. Another doorway in the opposite corner from where they had entered was partly concealed by a heavy curtain, made out of what looked like the same material as the dress the slave-girl was wearing.

They watched as Parris crossed to the curtain and lifted it with one hand, motioning to them with the other. As they followed, he ducked inside, having to bend so his head didn't brush the ceiling of a third room, a lot smaller than the other two. Rose was much shorter, and didn't have to stoop as drastically, and the monkey crouched slightly so his head was at the same level as hers, but the Doctor bent his head at what looked like an uncomfortable angle. Rose opened her mouth to quip about his severely gelled hair being squashed, but the words died on her lips as Parris squeezed out of the way to reveal what they'd come here to see.

It was dark in the third room, lit only by a single candle set in a hole in the stone wall. The two low cots occupying the tiny room had been pushed together to save space, and tucked up in a sea of blankets was a young girl. She was fast asleep, but looked far from restful; her small face was deathly pale and damp with sweat, and lank fair hair clung to her sticky forehead. If it weren't for the ragged breathing coming from the girl, Rose would have thought her dead; an image enhanced by the smallness of the child. In the large bed she looked younger than she really was – no older than six or seven.

It was oppressively hot in the stuffy room, but Parris quickly bent to tug the blankets tighter round the girl's shoulders. Rose quickly lunged forward, trying to stop him. The monkey hissed in annoyance, digging his fingers into her shoulder and neck to stay upright.

"Sorry," Rose said to the monkey, but both men thought she was talking to Parris.

"Don't be." said the Doctor, before the other man could accept the apology. He addressed the village minister. "What are you doing?"

Paris replied in a whisper, "She's been delirious, having fits. Only fell asleep an hour ago. I thought maybe it was a fever, I could sweat it out –"

The Doctor had been shaking his head from the first word. Elbowing Rose painfully in the stomach as he tried to reach his screwdriver in the cramped space, he shone it at the girl, appearing to expect answers from the small blue light as it flickered on her face. After a moment he seemed to give up, and Rose managed to dodge out of the way as he shoved it back inside his jacket, accidentally landing on Parris's foot. He glared at her and pushed her roughly backwards, but didn't risk speaking in case the child woke up. Rose returned the glare with feeling, then realised the Doctor was wearing his thoughtful face and had completely missed the exchange.

"What is it? What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know..." her best friend chewed his lip anxiously. "Whatever's happened, it isn't natural. And it feels…I dunno…" He glanced at Parris. Rose caught his expression and leaned closer to mutter in his ear.

"Alien?"

The Doctor nodded. "But I can't be sure without doing tests. I'd have to take her to the TARDIS, but…" they both looked at Parris. He had stopped glaring at Rose, but she was willing to bet it was only to please the Doctor. Get him alone, and she was sure he wouldn't mind clonking her with his stick again. She hoped he wasn't going to hold a grudge and persuade everyone she was a witch - she was hot enough already without adding being burned at the stake to the mix.

"What's -" Parris started to say, but was silenced, all four of them jumping in surprise at a sudden noise from the street outside.

* * *

Mickey was slumped beside Tituba on the baked ground, watching the Doctor and Rose disappear into Parris's house behind the minister. The slave girl sat beside him, suddenly quiet again. The heat was stifling, and Mickey wished he had some water. He licked his dry lips and waited.

After a few minutes – he had taken off his watch to avoid awkward questions, and without it he didn't know exactly how much time had passed – two figures appeared at the other end of the square, dressed in black and striding purposefully towards them. As they drew nearer and came into clearer view, Mickey saw their faces. Both had close-cropped dark hair, a square jaw and high forehead. They were almost identical, and he was sure they must be brothers. Something in their matching stern expressions made Mickey stand up, and Tituba followed his lead. The brothers were wearing dark trousers and shirts with gold badges pinned to the chest, and Mickey knew with a sudden, sinking certainty that they had to be police, and that he and his new companion were in trouble.

"Who are you?" asked the man on their right, who looked the younger of the two, around the age of Mickey himself. His face wasn't as lined as his brother's was, and there was still a trace of innocence in his grey eyes, whereas the older man's were piercing and severe. Mickey gave their names. Tituba had shrunk behind him shyly; as a slave she was clearly not used to being noticed.

"Yes, we know who she is. We're here to take her to the Sheriff's office." the older brother commanded in the same cocky American drawl as Parris.

"What? But, you cant!" Mickey was very aware that he was alone, in a strange time and country. He wished the Doctor hadn't left him alone. How did Rose do it? As he opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of a convincing lie, the two men pushed past him to each take one of Tituba's arms, ignoring her half-hearted attempts at escape. She quickly gave up squirming; perhaps she knew it was useless, or maybe she was glad of somewhere she'd be safe – from Parris at least. The men began to lead her down the street.

"Wait!" Mickey threw caution to the winds and ran to block their exit. "You can't! She hasn't done anything!"

"Who says?" said the younger man childishly, which left Mickey at a loss for words. What should he say? He had no idea whether Tituba had done anything wrong, so he did the only thing he could think of. He dived for the door of Parris's house, hammered on it with a fist, and yelled the Doctor's name. And the Doctor, his apparent sixth sense for danger kicking in, burst through the door to the rescue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

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**

The first of the policemen was on the Doctor before he could reach Tituba, twisting an arm behind his back. The Doctor suddenly found himself face down on the floor, staring at Rose's trainers as they skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Doctor!" he heard her shout, and there was a scuffle above him. A few seconds later Rose was sprawled beside him, swearing like a true Londoner. The monkey scampered off to crouch out of harms way. The Doctor risked a glance upwards; the elder of the two brothers stepped over Rose and the butt of an old-fashioned pistol was pushed uncomfortably close to their heads.

"Oh, brilliant," muttered the Doctor wryly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other policeman holding Tituba by the arm, a similar revolver pointing at her in case she tried to escape - not that she appeared capable of it. The woman looked scared, weary and defeated, and didn't even struggle.

"My name is Andrew Hunt, and this is my brother Wallace," began the man pointing the gun at Rose and the Doctor, "We are placing the four of you under arrest, for attempted assault of –"

"Wait!" shouted Mickey. With exceptional quick thinking for one so dull-witted – thought the Doctor, not unkindly – he rushed over, thrust a hand into the Time Lord's pocket, and produced a battered leather wallet. The Doctor heaved a sigh of relief and prepared to stand up and take on whatever role the paper had given him, as Mickey flipped open the psychic paper and waved it in the direction of Hunt. None of the travellers were expecting what actually happened.

"That paper is blank," Andrew Hunt began sharply. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, but –"

"No, er, just a minute," floundered Mickey, "The, uh, batteries must be flat."

"What are batteries?" the two Hunts asked simultaneously. Mickey shut the wallet, gave it a shake, and opened it again hopefully. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

That was the moment Rose knew the monkey was back. Its warm weight landed on her back, and little fingers dug into the back of her neck. Automatically, Rose turned her head, just in time to see an enraged Samuel Parris emerge from his house.

"What in Hell's name do you think you are doing?" he bellowed at the Doctor, as the elder Hunt roughly dragged him and Rose to their feet.

"Sorry?" in the excitement, the Doctor was momentarily lost. "Ah, the girl, of course. Well, actually, there's been a slight change of plan…"

"Change of plan? Change of plan?" Parris had gone white with fury, except for two red splotches on his cheekbones. Rose recognised the signs all too well from a psycho Geography teacher she'd had in Year 9, and knew the best way to avoid a rollicking was to keep your head down and be as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, that was hard to do when a pair of handcuffs clicked loudly around your wrists. Parris' gaze slid from the Doctor and onto her, and Rose wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She glanced at the policemen for help, thinking there must be some sort of rule for violence against criminals by members of the public, but they didn't budge as Parris pushed his leering face towards her. She realised he must be in charge – a mayor or sheriff or something.

"You!" he hissed. Rose flinched as spittle hit her cheek. "You were involved. I can see it in your face!"

"What? Me?" this time, the flinch was from fear. Rose automatically quailed under the furious stare Parris was giving her. "I didn't do anything!"

"You protected her." he threw an arm behind him, where Tituba was cowering, trying desperately not to meet his eyes.

"Of course I –" Rose began hotly, but he wasn't finished.

"You see things that aren't there. Your skull is healed without a scar." Rose automatically touched the back of her head with both shackled hands. Parris seemed to have forgotten that it was the Doctor who had fixed her, and felt the cold, slimy feeling of dread settle in her stomach.

"You consort with the Devil!" he roared. "You are a Witch!"

There was a collective intake of breath, and then a heavy silence that rang in Rose's ears.

"No..." she denied weakly, but it was no use. Hunt senior grabbed hold of her shoulders from behind and began to manoeuvre her away at a nod from her accuser. "Doctor, help!"

"Rose!" the Doctor stormed forwards, but Parris threw a surprisingly solid arm across his chest.

"Oh, no. You're staying here." Parris told him. "But don't worry. As soon as you've cured my girl, you can join your friends in prison."

Wallace was already leading Tituba away, as well as a less submissive Mickey, who was fighting both his captor and the handcuffs simultaneously, and losing. The younger Hunt looked as if he wished there were another couple of officers to help, but managed to keep it under control. Rose's friends were dragged out of sight round the corner. Andrew started to pull Rose after them, but she hurled herself towards the Doctor, reaching for him with both cuffed hands. "Doctor!"

"Rose, hold on!" he grabbed her left hand with both of his, trying to escape the immovable Parris. Rose held on as tight as she could, but could feel her friend's fingers slipping from hers as Hunt wrenched her backwards. Knowing it was useless, the Doctor used his other hand to fumble inside his jacket. Rose felt something pen-shaped slide into her free palm.

"I'll come back for you," the Doctor promised. Staring into his earnest brown eyes, Rose couldn't help but believe him. He had never let her down.

They were pulled apart. The Doctor flashed her a wink and his trademark grin, before he let himself be manhandled back into Parris's house. Rose was hauled backwards down the street, still shouting his name…


	7. Chapter 7

**Doctor Who (c) BBC **

* * *

Mickey sat with his back to the bars, facing the only wall in the cell. He had found a small rubber ball in the pocket of his jacket, and had spent the last twenty minutes throwing it at the wall, letting it bounce, and catching it again. In the adjacent cell, Rose was getting increasingly irritated.

The cells were five foot by seven – she had spent a few minutes pacing it out, for lack of anything else to do – and three of the sides were made from thick bars set into the concrete floor. The fourth side was formed from the wall of the prison, and was rough stone. There was a small window – no bigger than six inches square – but it was above her head, so she couldn't even look out. There was a bucket, and a blanket in the corner, but no bed. Rose sat by the wall below the window, in what little shade there was, but even so the heat was oppressive. Her jeans and T-shirt were damp with sweat, and blonde hair stuck to her forehead. Her mouth was unbearably dry, but none of them had been given a drink since they had arrived.

Rose didn't know how long they had been there. Here mobile phone, along with her sense of time, had been confiscated. Hunt held it gingerly, as if he thought it would explode or cast a spell on him, before dropping it into a desk drawer. Amidst the confusion, Rose couldn't help thinking that it would be interesting to see his reaction if someone tried to ring her.

They had been brought in and questioned brusquely by Hunt for ten minutes, but he quickly decided that they weren't going to tell him anything. He ignored Rose's protests of innocence. He, along with the townspeople who came in every so often, had accepted her as a witch and duly detested her. Rose was unused to being disliked by so many people, and didn't like it one bit.

_He's left you, you know, a voice whispered in her head._

"What?" she said loudly, head snapping up and round. The monkey was crouched a few feet in front of her, staring intently.

"I didn't say anything," said Mickey, without pausing in his game. The ball hit the wall again.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking back to the monkey.

_What_? Rose thought tentatively, and the monkey grinned in response. She felt a sudden surge of pride that could have belonged to either one of them.

_The Doctor. He's not coming back for you._

_Of course he is_, Rose argued silently. _Why wouldn't he_?

Without giving the creature time to argue, Rose pushed herself to her feet. Leaving the relative comfort of the shade, she stood up and made her way to the bars. Craning her neck between them, she could see the length of the room and into the next one through a wide doorway. She saw a table, and sitting behind it was Andrew Hunt, reading something that looked like a newspaper made of heavy paper or parchment. Rose didn't know if he could see her or not, but as she was gathering enough saliva to speak, he raised something to his lips. It was a ceramic mug. He drank deeply, throat convulsing with each swallow; Rose's gazed at it longingly. As Hunt lowered the mug, she saw her chance.

"Oi!" she shouted hoarsely. He didn't seem to have heard, so she tried again. "Hey, we're roasting in here! Aren't you even gonna offer us a drink?"

Without taking his eyes off the newspaper, Hunt lifted the mug, held it at arm's length, and slowly upended it. Rose watched silently as the precious water splashed to the floor and was quickly absorbed into the thirsty floor. The heat seemed to press down on her as she watched it disappear, heart sinking. Hunt replaced the mug on his desk and turned a page, as if nothing had happened.

_That went well_, the monkey remarked dryly.

_You can shut up._

Rose was about to admit defeat and take up her position against the wall, but a noise made her pause, half-turned away from the bars.

"Psst."

Rose looked sideways at Mickey, but he didn't move except for the repetitive flick of his wrist.

"Psst!" it came again. Rose quickly looked around. Tituba slumped against the wall in the cell opposite, silent. She didn't raise her head as Rose's gaze swept past her to Mickey's, and then to the cell on the other side of her own. At first glance, it looked empty. Then something moved in the shadows – what she had taken as a pile of dirty rags piled in the shadows.

Intrigued, Rose pressed herself against the bars, trying to get closer to see clearly. After a moment, a figure disentangled itself from the pile and stood, moving into the patch of sunlight cast from Rose's window.

It was a woman, an incredibly old, worn, stooped woman. She looked at least eighty, and Rose was horrified at how thin and ill she looked. She couldn't believe that the police could live with themselves after putting someone's grandmother or mother in jail like an animal. The woman's face was scored with deep wrinkles, and she shuffled forwards as if in pain. One bony hand held her rags about her, the other reached out to Rose through the bars. Held in the withered, crippled claw was a leather bag stopped with a lump of cork. It was pushed towards Rose as far as the arm would stretch, and Rose automatically moved to retrieve it. The crone's hand trembled with the effort, and the sound of sloshing water could be heard. Mickey was on his feet in a second, but Rose drew her hand away, guilt drowning out the voice in her head that was threatening to kill her if she refused.

"Take it," ordered the cracked voice. Rose hesitated, and then shook her head, cursing herself inwardly for being such a nice person.

"I can't."

"I'm not asking," said the crone. Her voice broke, as if she wasn't used to speaking. "Take it, child. Your need is greater than mine."

_Go on_. At first Rose thought the voice came from inside her, but then the monkey sprang to her shoulder in one bound. She has no more need for it.

She would have argued, or asked what he meant, but the temptation was too great. Rose grabbed the bottle and raised it to her lips. The water that cascaded down her throat was warm and bitter, but Rose didn't care. She drank deeply, until her sore throat and scorched lungs were soothed. Then she passed the flask through the railings to Mickey, who snatched it and gulped down another third. He had to force himself to stop, seal the bag, and toss it to Tituba. The soft flask hit the ground beside her, startling the slave from her daze. She looked at Mickey as if looking for permission, unused to having anyone share with her, and then scrabbled for the water. As she drank, Rose looked for the old lady, who had retreated back into her corner.

"Who are you?" she asked. There was no answer, so she tried again. "I'm Rose Tyler. Thank you for the water. What's your name?"

"My name is Sarah Osborne." was the reply, and then the woman paused. Rose got the feeling she was supposed to say something.

"Um…"

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your companion?"

"Oh, sorry." Rose waved a hand at Mickey. "This is my friend Mickey Smith. He's –"

"Not that one," Sarah Osborne's interrupted softly, but even so, it sent a chill through Rose, and the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She could swear the old woman was staring at the monkey on her shoulder.

"Wh – what?" Rose didn't have to feign ignorance; it was all too real. She had assumed that nobody else could see the monkey. "What do you mean?"

All at once, there was a flash of menace in the old crone's face. "Don't mess with me, girl." she snapped. "Now, tell me the truth. What has that thing been whispering?"

"Rose, what's she talking about?" Mickey asked. He was leaning against the bars, face clouded with confusion. Rose did her best to ignore him.

"Nothing…it's not been saying anything."

"I said the truth!" the old woman snarled. Her face darkened, and she seemed to grow taller with rage. "That thing's tricks put me in this place. It's evil!"

"What…"

Lies! shouted the monkey. All lies!

"You little –" Sarah made a grab for it across the jail room, but the cages were too far apart. Rose took an automatic step backwards away from her clawing hands. The monkey was hissing angrily.

"What? What did he do?" Rose cried. Sarah Osborne's face was livid in the sunlight.

"I'll tell you what it did! It ruined my life! It condemned me! I'm going to hang!" Sarah gave up, and sagged against the bars, worn out. "That monkey –"

She never finished. Sarah's eyes suddenly widened, and she grabbed her throat. A choking noise bubbled through her lips, before she pitched over backwards. There was a sickening crunch as her weak bones splintered. Mickey cried out, and Rose covered her mouth with her hands to hold in a scream. Sarah lay twitching horribly for a few moments, one hand clawing at her neck, the other racked with spasms at the end of a writhing arm. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and her mouth opened, an unearthly scream issuing forth.

Then she was still.

"Oh my God." Rose breathed. Her head was spinning, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth. Then fury overcame her. She rounded on the monkey, grabbing it from her shoulder and hurling it away. It scrambled into the corner and crouched, hissing in resentment.

"Was that you? How dare you!" she yelled, tears pricking her eyes.

"Was what me? How could it be me?" Mickey stared at his friend in confusion. She seemed to be yelling at thin air. "Rose…she's dead."

Then he came to his senses and rushed to the door of his cage. He stuck an arm through it and waved, trying to get Hunt's attention.

"Hey!" he hollered. "Hey, we need help in here!"

But the police officer was already on his feet, drawn by the screams. He burst through the doorway. His eyes fell on the dead form of Sarah Osborne, Tituba, who was huddled in tears, Mickey, and Rose. They stayed on Rose.

"What did you do?" he snarled. She had no time to protest. The monkey flashed past her and was between the bars in an instant. It dived towards Tituba, who saw it coming but couldn't stop it. It landed before her, and hissed again, low and menacing. Rose saw the slave-girl's eyes widen and darken to almost black, just like the first time they had met.

"No…" she whispered, knowing what was going to happen.

"It was her," the girl whispered, pointing at the blonde. "I saw her. She bewitched Sarah." A moment later her eyes became clear green once more and she shook her head slightly, wondering what she had just said. To Hunt, though, it was all the proof required. He unhooked the keys from his belt and unlocked the door to Rose's cell as quickly as he could.

Rose stumbled away and grabbed Mickey's hands through the bars. "It's OK," she said. "The Doctor will find me, it'll be OK." Mickey had time to squeeze her hands for good luck, and then Hunt reached her and dragged her backwards away from him.

"Right, that was your last chance." he said, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her out of the cell.

"Wait – where are you taking her?" Mickey tried to ask, but his friend was already being hauled out of the prison.

"Where do you think?" Hunt threw over his shoulder. "She's a witch. She had the chance of a trial, but now she's a danger to society. Hanging is the only option."

"What? Hanging?" Mickey couldn't believe his ears. Rose was trying to fight against the man, but he was too strong, and just like last time, she was powerless against him.

"No, you can't –" Rose shook her arm, trying to free herself, but Hunt tugged her sharply so she stumbled.

"Yes I can, Witch," he hissed. "It is my duty to protect this town, and the only way to do that is to make sure you hang."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) BBC.  
A/N: No, I'm not that clever. Info on the human brain from Wikipedia.**

* * *

Meanwhile, inside the TARDIS, the Doctor had propped Parris's daughter up on the bench in the main control room. The girl was barely conscious, and didn't protest when he got out the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at her small heads. As he scanned the skull, an x-ray of the inside of the girl's skull, complete with brain, appeared on the small TV screen mounted on the control station. The only sound was the buzz of the sonic screwdriver as it roamed across the child's skull, then it cut out as the Doctor completed the scan and turned his attention to the screen.

"What is that?" Parris asked at last, gesturing at the screen. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously. "More witch craft, I suppose?"

The Doctor sighed. He knew he would have worked faster without Parris there, but of course the minister had insisted.

"No. My device –" he briefly waved the sonic "- takes a scan of the head and transfers the image to the screen over there. It's like an x-ray, only more advanced." The Doctor knew it was childish to intentionally confuse him, but he didn't feel the slightest twinge of sympathy towards the man who had tried to brain Rose with a plank of wood.

"Doctor, this is my daughter you're talking about. You won't mollify me with your gibberish."

The Doctor glanced at him, seeing that he was completely serious, and that despite his society's backwardness, Parris was not unintelligent. "Right. Sorry." he tried again. "My device copies what's inside her head – namely, her brain – and it appears there." It was so crude an explanation for such a complicated process that the Doctor almost winced. "It's science, not witchcraft."

Parris had a hard time accepting the simple fact that the TARDIS was bigger on the inside – simple in theory, anyway – so the Doctor reckoned there was no way he was taking that at face value. But the one thing he hadn't taken into account was all that Parris had been through to try and explain this logically, and right now he was ready to believe anything as long as witchcraft wasn't tagged onto it.

So, to the Doctor's eternal surprise, he said, "And what the slave girl did, that was science as well?"

By now, there were two x-rays side by side on the screen, and the Doctor was peering at them closely through his thick-rimmed glasses.

"Well, it must be." he muttered, "But the question isn't really what she did so much as how…hold on."

"What is it?" Parris shoved his big face up to the screen, for no reason the Doctor could fathom. Parris had probably never even seen a human brain before, let alone know it well enough to spot the smallest change. "What is that?"

The Doctor straightened up and dropped the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, giving Parris access to the whole picture. "The human brain," he said, taking a deep breath ready for one of the big speeches that he loved to give, despite Rose fondly saying he was just doing it to show off. He began to pace dramatically. "The human brain! The most complex organ in the body, most evolved thing on the planet and most extraordinary thing in the universe. Some us it as proof of God's existence, others regard it as the triumph of the human race through evolution, though most of you only use ten percent at any one time. Controls the central nervous system through domination of an army of neurones, which are capable of electrical and chemical communication with tens of thousands of other nerve cells. Anatomically, the brain can be divided into three parts: the forebrain, midbrain, and hindbrain; the forebrain includes the several lobes of the cerebral cortex that control higher functions, while the mid- and hindbrain are more involved with unconscious, autonomic functions -"

"Excuse me, Doctor?"

"Hmm? Yes?" the Doctor turned back to face him; Parris was facing him, arms folded, with a stern expression on his long face.

"Does any of this have a point?"

"Of course." the Doctor was genuinely offended. "Unconscious, autonomic functions, etcetera, etcetera. Henceforth…thus…anyway." Flustered, he floundered for his train of thought. "Anyway. Ah, yes.

"If there is something wrong with the body there is something wrong with the brain. If there's a flaw in the hand," he held up a hand, a little needlessly, "Then there will be a sign in the brain that will tell you, if you know how to look."

"And do you know how to look?"

"Oh yes."

"So what did you find…" Parris trailed off. The Doctor took a step closer to him, and stared seriously into his eyes.

"Nothing," he admitted. "I'm sorry, but I'm a Doctor, not a miracle worker. I can't fix a flaw if it's not there. If it ain't broke..."

"What do you mean, not there?" Parris interrupted. He stormed over to his daughter and crouched down in front of her chair. "Look at her," he murmured, brushing hair off the small, sickly face. "My daughter is sick. Dying, for all I know. That Witch did it to her. And all I can do is sit by and watch?"

"I'm sorry," the Doctor repeated wearily. "I really am. The only thing I can think of is talking to Tituba again, try and make her reverse whatever she did. If she's been poisoned -" he wasn't going to admit this whole witchcraft thing without proof, "– there might have a cure. If not…we'll just have to wait and see if she recovers."

He turned and switched off the TV monitor. The screen flickered from the x-ray to its default view; the street just outside. The Doctor was about to turn his back on it when something moved one side of the screen, and a second later a familiar figure appeared. It was Rose, being hauled unwillingly across the street by one of the policemen that had arrested her. What was he doing?

His hands flashed across the controls, tracking the camera after her, fiddling with the volume. Voices filled the room.

"No, you can't – get off me!" that was Rose, frantic and furious. The Doctor's hands curled into fists on the tabletop.

"What's going on?" he muttered. "Where are they taking you?"

Though she couldn't have heard, Rose suddenly stopped trying to pull away from Hunt and instead spun round so she was facing the TARDIS. She looked directly at the screen, right into the Doctor's eyes.

"You can't do this!" she shouted. "You can't hang someone without a trial -"

Hunt silenced her with a backhand to the face. Rose went limp in his grip.

"Shut up!" he hissed. "You want the whole town to know? As far as they're concerned, you've already been found guilty."

He dragged her off-screen. The Doctor felt himself go ice-cold, then burning hot. Yanking off his glasses, he leapt towards the door and hauled it open.

"Hey!" Parris demanded. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Your girls can wait five minutes," replied the Doctor. "Rose can't."

He flung himself out of view. Parris stood in indecision. After a few seconds the Doctor stuck his head back in.

"Come on if you're coming," he snapped. "If not, if you're more worried about what your precious town thinks of you than the life of another human being, then stay here, be my guest. But don't touch anything."

It took Parris a few minutes to make up his mind. There was more than his image at stake; he needed to know his girls would be safe, and he wasn't leaving them in such a machine. He sat down on the floor and watched the Doctor's face twist in disgust. The door banged shut behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Doctor Who (c) BBC.**

* * *

Wallace Hunt, the younger of the two brothers, was feeling restless. He watched the girl being dragged onto the hanging platform with growing apprehension. With none of his brother's malice, he had only a part of Andrew's conviction that the witch was guilty. And the witch was so young, younger than him, and pretty – a very blonde, British sort of pretty, but pretty all the same. Wallace went to the sermon every Sunday, and Reverend Parris always said the Devil would use temptation, but he had never imagined he would experience it first-hand, or have such trouble – he always thought himself strong enough to support his faith, no matter what...but now he was confused by guilt. Although grubby and ruffled, Rose still gave off an air of otherworldliness, of excitement, of a bright light amongst the dark sharpness of Salem.

Wallace forced himself to look away from her pleading eyes, dark brown, one blurred by a nasty cut where someone had thrown a stone. It was impossible to tell who had been the thrower, because practically the whole town had turned out to witness the hanging. He focused instead on the crowd pushing in against the foot of the gallows, gazing up at Rose and the Hunt brothers, the greed for spilt blood clear in their faces. Wallace helplessly watched Andrew drag Rose to the front of the stage and onto the closed trapdoor. The noose hung down in front of her, and the elder Hunt dropped it over her head, purposefully slow. The throng pressed closer impatiently, silent, fresh with the thrill of anticipation, but all Wallace felt was his heart beating a tattoo against his throat as he reluctantly put a hand on the lever that released the trapdoor, ready to send the witch – Rose – plunging to her death.

Rose lowered her head so that blonde hair hung down in a curtain over her face. Wallace and Andrew presumed it was to hide tears or a final prayer, but in truth she was scanning the crowd for any sign of the Doctor. It would be just like him to leave it to the last minute. But as the seconds ticked past and he didn't spring into view, the dread grew in her chest. What if the monkey was right, and he wasn't coming? What if this was the end? As if he could hear her, the monkey scuttled up to her and gently nuzzled her shins.

_What now? _Rose silently whispered. _Do you see a way out?_

_There's always a way out, _he replied. _But you're not going to like it._

_Do I have a choice?_

_All right. Hold on tight._

_To wha-_

But she didn't get to finish, because the monkey stepped backwards, tensed in a crouch, and sprang; leapt at her; through her; disappeared inside her chest –

Rose jerked backwards and almost strangled herself on the rope before they had even pulled the lever, but Andrew grabbed her arms.

"All right, girlie," he hissed. "Not 'til the crowd's gagging for it, okay? I know you're disappointed you're boyfriend abandoned you, but…"

He pushed her back into place, and nodded at Wallace. The younger man readied himself at the lever, wishing there were another way, but not quite brave enough to make a stand.

"Any last words?" whispered Andrew. Wallace heard the glee in his voice and felt sick.

"Just one," the girl's voice was soft, melodic, somehow dangerous. She looked back at them, and where her eyes had always been dark, now Wallace could have sworn they were almost black. Her mouth twisted in a smile that wasn't her usual cheerful grin, and a chill ran through Wallace. "Duck."

"What do you mean, du –" Andrew began, then an invisible shockwave slammed into him and he flew backwards off the platform. Pandemonium broke out. The crowd started running, falling over each other in their haste to get away, until the individuals were lost in the single torrent of terrified bodies.

Rose lifted a hand and they fell, as one; no noise, no fuss, just the slow, soft sigh of a hundred bodies folding to the ground. The town fell silent.

Only Wallace was left. He felt fear slide down his spine as she turned to face him. Her jet-black eyes bored into him, like dark pools of time. He was weak at the knees before she lifted her hand.

The Doctor sprinted into the square, coat-tails flapping, and screeched to a halt a hundred metres from the gallows. The sight that greeted him was one all too familiar: a battlefield, fallen soldiers, broken bodies. He dropped to his knees beside the nearest victim and felt for a pulse. There, a faint beating – very faint, but there. He reached for another, and found another pulse. He was willing to bet it would be the same all round. They were all alive, but what had knocked them out, so completely?

"Doctor?" A familiar voice made him look up, tensing. Rose was stumbling towards him through the fallen, one hand to her head. "It is you, isn't it?"

"It's me." The Doctor straightened up and moved forwards to meet her. "Are you OK? Did you see what happened?"

"No, I just…I just heard this noise…"

They were only a foot apart now. The Doctor's first instinct was to hug her, but something stopped him. There was something odd, something about her - something not quite right. The Doctor stared at her, trying to figure out what was different, but Rose's face crumpled and he moved forwards automatically to catch her in his arms. She pulled free after only a few seconds, but stayed leaning against him, eyes fixed on his chest.

"Rose, what happened?" he asked gently, trying to meet her eyes. For some reason she seemed unwilling to look at him; he eventually had to grab her chin and guide her gaze to his. "What is it?"

"I…" she gazed up at him, speechless, and something crackled between them. For one mad moment the Doctor was sure she was about to kiss him; and then she drew back a fist and smacked him between the eyes.

The Doctor stumbled backwards, more from shock than the actual blow, and tripped over one of the unconscious villagers. He sprawled backwards.

Rose loomed over him; the Doctor felt the air crackle once more, but this time his guard was down, and whatever Rose had tried to do before worked. He felt something work its way into his mind, twist, and pull. A searing pain flashed through the Doctor's head, and then everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Doctor Who (c) BBC.**

* * *

Mickey was standing behind the door to his cell long after Rose's shouts faded into the distance. Numb, he could do nothing but stare at the object Rose had slipped into his hands a split second before Hunt grabbed her - the sonic screwdriver. He turned it over and over in his hands in agitation, but didn't know what he was supposed to do with it; even if he managed to get out, his chances of overpowering the whole town and rescuing Rose, all before she hung, were next to impossible. Even so, he had to try something, and he could feel the seconds slipping by as he did nothing.

Making up his mind, Mickey turned to face the door and pointed the sonic at the lock, pressing the button. Nothing happened. e flicked it onto another setting and tried again, with the same result. Stupid thing! He was aware of Tituba's eyes gazing heavily at him, and felt a surge of anger. Everything that had happened had been her fault!

"Don't just sit there!" he exploded, rounding on her furiously. "Why don't you do…something…"

"What do you want me to do?" she asked demurely, accustomed to being shouted at.

"I don't know…" Mickey rubbed a hand over his sweaty face. "But if we don't hurry, Rose is going to die." _Because of you_, he added silently. He didn't say it out loud, but the thought was clear on his face.

"I know you think I am to blame," said Tituba slowly, in her strange accent, "But I promise you, it was not me who hurt your friend. It was the monkey."

"What monkey?" Mickey asked sullenly, annoyed at yet another excuse.

"Ask Rose, if we get out of here in time. She sees it too. It controlled our actions, made us do things we did not mean."

"We will get out. We have to." Mickey said, with more conviction than he felt. Then he heard the rest of what she said. "Wait, what did it make Rose do? And how do you know?"

Tituba lowered her eyes, and Mickey noticed a faint flush creep along her neck. "I didn't say before…I thought you would not believe me."

"Tituba…" Mickey turned his attention from the sonic screwdriver and fixed his eyes on hers, leaning against the bars as if he could squeeze through them. "Whatever you know, you have to tell me. If you don't then she'll die. Please."

She hesitated, but finally nodded. "The monkey took over my body, controlled my thoughts, my actions. But what it did not know – at least, I don't think so – is that I could read its thoughts. Since then I have been able to see what it is doing. And what your friend is doing." She paused again.

"_What is it doing to Rose_?" Mickey managed, through gritted teeth.

"I'm watching." The slave-girl closed her eyes. "It…it took over her body, like it did mine. It made her attack the villagers, and that man…your friend…she struck him."

"Rose hit the Doctor?" Mickey was filled with alarm and amusement. "Rose hit the Doctor? Rose hit the Doctor?"

"He fell," Tituba continued, eyes still closed. "Now she's dragging him somewhere…into the trees…there's something – a building? But so big and...shiny."

"We have to go there." Mickey pointed the sonic screwdriver at the door again, then thought better of it. "This is never going to work."

"Then what –" Tituba began, and was drowned out as Mickey raised his foot and smashed it into the door, again and again. The clangs rang through the prison, but from what Tituba had said, there was nobody around to hear it. After the third kick, the lock began to buckle, and Mickey carried on, imbued with fresh determination.

"Come – on – you – stupid – _yes_!" Finally, the door broke open and Mickey fell through it, catching himself on the swinging gate so he wouldn't fall. He staggered to his feet and ran to the desk. Hauling the drawer open, he rummaged through it, throwing papers and other objects out of his way. One of them was Rose's mobile phone; he hastily shoved it in a pocket before spotting what he was searching for – a bunch of keys. He grabbed them and sprinted back to Tituba's cell.

She looked surprised to see him return, clearly expecting him to leave her to die. But besides from the fact that he needed her to find Rose and the Doctor, there was no way he would leave an innocent behind bars. He quickly began trying the keys in the cell door, and after a few minutes was in luck – the door clicked open.

"Come on!" he reached in to help her out, and Tituba stumbled to freedom. "We have to hurry."

"Follow me," she instructed, and held out her hand.

Mickey took it and they ran.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the long wait guys, I've been busy with college work and other fics. But hopefully it's worth it... :) Doctor Who (c) BBC.**

* * *

The Doctor woke up slowly and painfully. He was flat on his back, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. He did a quick check to see if he was hurt; his wrists and ankles were shackled, and his nose stung where Rose had hit him (Rose? Had Rose really done that?), but from twitching it, he could tell it wasn't broken. Nothing else seemed to be wrong. No, what really hurt was his pride. He should have seen it coming; Rose's strange behaviour, seeing things that weren't there, the way she had looked a bit odd back there…

She was possessed. Yes, that had to be it. She had been possessed before, all the signs were there (although as he recalled, their last similar encounter had been altogether less painful…) Anyway, whatever it was controlling her, it undoubtedly needed Rose to get to him, or something from him, or make him do something. It couldn't need Rose for herself, he reasoned, or it would be long gone by now.

Well, that was simple enough. He would do whatever it wanted (or make it think he would, until he could think of a plan) and, hopefully, it would give up Rose.

Now that he had the beginnings of a plan, the Doctor felt more in control. The first steps, of course, were to assess the situation, look for a way out, and find Rose – or rather, whatever was using her body. He turned his head, and two of the stages happened at once.

He was lying on the floor of some kind of space ship. Usually it was the vibrations in the floor that gave it away, but this time it was the layout of the room. There were wires everywhere – hanging from the ceiling, trailing across the floor – and a few feet away, a large, clunky engine was turning slowly on a spit, like a roasting pig. Rose was standing in front of it with her back to him.

The Doctor carefully began to get to his feet, trying not to trip over his ankle brackets. He opened his mouth, but before he could say something to diffuse the situation, like "Now then, let's just calm down…" or "Hands up!" and brandish the sonic screwdriver that he'd momentarily forgotten wasn't in his pocket, she turned round and stared at him.

"Um, hello," he said. Not quite what he'd had in mind, but it didn't matter, because she ignored him.

"You were asleep a long time," she told him, in a voice that was simultaneously both Rose and not Rose. "That's good. The humans won't wake for a few hours yet."

"You knocked out an entire town?" the Doctor babbled, trying to invent a new plan. "That's impressive. Really, um. Good."

The creature just stared at him through Rose's eyes. Except – thought the Doctor, realising what was different about her – they weren't. Rose's eyes were dark, but these – these were pure black, no distinction between iris and pupil. It was like looking into two black holes. He decided to cut to the chase.

"What are you?" he asked. "What do you want?"

The thing in Rose smiled a tight, fierce smile.

"We are Gonlang," it said.

"Oh, of course," said the Doctor, with no idea what it was talking about. He racked his brains for the word. Gonlang, Gonlang, Gonlang…

From what he could remember, the Gonlang were nothing more than a weak psychic force, ghosts of ideas, drifting through their planet's atmosphere. It was said that five Elders took turns in ruling for a century each (to the extent that an idea needs to be controlled). They were supposed to be a weak, and therefore peaceful, race.

"So…you must be one of the Elders," the Doctor surmised. "Here to cause mayhem? No, that doesn't make sense…Which one are you?"

"We are each and none. We are all and every."

"A mixture of Elders? How does that work?" He didn't really care; just wanted to keep it talking while he figured out a way to save Rose. And there was always a chance that it might let something slip, and that Rose, hidden away inside its mind, would see an opportunity to escape.

"Our race is weak and stupid," the Gonlang was saying. "Not unlike these humans. For endless centuries we have ruled, and watched the lesser Gonlang drift, going nowhere, immortal and yet useless. So we said to one another, there must be a way to harness their energy, to become the superior race we were destined to be. We have been searching space and time to find a worthy race, a worthy soul to act as conduit."

"But there are thousands of races you could choose from," the Doctor cut in. "Why here; why humans?"

"Because they are weak." the Gonlang replied. "Because they are strong. Because they are stupid, clever, and passionate. Because they will last forever. Because they are unique."

Exactly why the Doctor himself was so fond of them, thought he would never admit it, especially to the thief of his best friend's body.

"OK, so you love humans. But why choose 1692? What are you looking for that only 1692 has?"

"It was a mistake," she replied simply. "My ship crashed in this year, in this city. Believe me, I would not have chosen it this way. But what'd done is done. We resolved to find a worthy candidate."

"So why Rose?" the Doctor asked softly, finally getting to the most important question. "Why her?"

"The others failed me," she walked forwards, closing the gap between them. "The crone was wise, I thought, the slave clever. But both were too weak to control my power. I was beginning to think I was destined to return with another weak, stupid human.

"And then she arrived," it continued, the contempt in its voice replaced with awe and pride. "The way she ran to save a useless slave; such courage, such compassion! As soon as I saw her, I knew she was the one, and when I glimpsed her mind, I saw the power in her grasp. A fine choice, Doctor. A fine companion."

She stepped closer and reached out. The Doctor flinched backwards, but there was nowhere to go, and anyway, she only brushed his cheek with her hand. Underneath everything spinning through his head the Doctor noticed that her fingers were warm.

"And you, Doctor…" she continued, stroking his face with Rose's hand. "You who knows her best…cannot even begin to imagine the potential hidden in this young one. The eye of the wolf…it grows brighter every day, and soon it will be strong enough to put to use." She laughed, stepping back from the Doctor and spreading her arms. "Imagine if I were to return home with such a prize!"

"You're wrong," the Doctor argued quietly. "Rose isn't strong. She's just another human, just another stupid ape. They're ten a penny, you said as much yourself. Take me." He raised himself to his full height, a full head taller than Rose, and looked down on her. "I'm not just clever; I'm brilliant, if I do say so myself. And I won't age. I won't die. Whatever you need her for, I'll be ten times better. Use me."

"Yes, the child's thoughts have told me all about you, Time Lord. But you will not do. Rose is a champion, and I will not give her up." She looked him straight in the eye, and added, "Besides, what use is a man who will not die? For the ceremony we have planned only the most precious of victims will do. The new reign must be baptised with the blood of the innocent."

"No!" the Doctor interrupted, horrified. "No, you can't –" He made as if to lunge for her, but drew himself up short. He couldn't hurt Rose…

The creature saw his indecision and pounced. The Doctor felt the full force of its mind – or minds, or energy – slam against him, knocking him off his feet. He landed hard on his back, and looked up through a haze of pain to see Rose standing over him.

"And a sacrifice such as Rose is worthy for the cause," she continued as if there had been no interruption. "To unite five Elders as one, to imbue us with the strength of her soul, that we may pass it on to our lower brethren and become the most advanced species in the universe. Above the Stravnaroth, beyond even the mighty Dalek. With Rose's bravery and cunning, there is nothing we cannot –"

"No!" croaked the Doctor. The Gonlang, cut off mid-stride, looked taken aback.

"No?"

"No," he confirmed. "I'm way ahead of you. If you could, you'd have taken Rose back to your planet the minute you showed yourself to her. But you need me. Why else go to all this trouble?"

"You think –" it hissed, but he interrupted again.

"Your ship crashed." He nodded towards the slowly revolving engine. "It needs repairing. You think I'll do it, but I won't. If you release Rose, maybe, but not before."

Rose's face was stretched in a calculating smile that didn't suit it.

"Yes, she told me you were clever. Very clever. But I foresaw this. You will help me, in the end, whether you want to or not."

And she reached behind her, under Rose's jacket. When her hand reappeared it was clutching a futuristic, deadly-looking gun.

"Well, that's not going to work," the Doctor interjected. "You should know threats don't work on me."

"I know," she replied. "That's why I'm not aiming at you."

Rose raised the gun, and pointed it at herself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Doctor Who (c) BBC.**

* * *

"Come on!" Tituba called over her shoulder, ducking under the reaching branches of trees flashing past her. Mickey stumbled after her, trying not to trip over the roots and leaves scattered over the ground. The forest was unfamiliar to him and he was having trouble in keeping up with the girl, who darted ahead of him. If her black dress didn't so obviously stand out from the green foliage he would have been in danger of losing sight of her.

Suddenly, Tituba came to a halt, allowing Mickey to catch up and lean heavily against a tree-trunk, breathing hard. They were overlooking a patch of land free of trees – or rather, it looked to have been flattened by something large that had forced everything out of its way, leaving a crater.

"Are we...there?" he panted, wiping a hand across his forehead and glancing over at his companion. "Is this it?"

Tituba was frowning, staring around the clearing. "I'm sure it should be here." she murmured. "This part of the forest I recognise. The building should be right here..."

"Then where is it?" Mickey asked. And then, without quite knowing why, he took a hesitant step forwards, lifting the sonic screwdriver from his pocket as he did so. Tituba eyed the device suspiciously as he raised it and pointed it at the flattened glade, pressing the button. Sonic waves spread from the slim tube; the air in front of Mickey seemed to flex and bend out of shape. Then, slowly, a metal wall faded into existence in front of them.

They had found the ship.

The Doctor raised his hands towards Rose, handcuffs clanking. "But...you can't! You...wait...no!"

"What's wrong, Doctor? You're usually so articulate." The Gonlang smiled, the gun still pressed to its own temple. "It's quite simple. Do as I say, or you can kiss your little friend goodbye."

"But you can't," the Doctor reasoned, voice calm despite the turmoil in his head. "If you shoot Rose you'll die, you'll lose the...the vessel. You're race won't evolve, they'll just stop. Stop moving, stop feeling, eventually just die out. Are you really willing to take that chance?"

The creature smiled, and said with Rose's mouth, "Are you?"

The silence stretched between them; the Doctor's horror and indecision coupled with the alien's cruel certainty. They both knew he would stand down; of course he would. He couldn't lose Rose.

"All right," he said at last. "Show me what you need me to do and I'll do it."

The Gonlang smiled, finally lowering the gun. "Your loyalty is commendable. Really, I'm touched. The friendship between you is delicious. It's almost a shame we have to kill you both."

_That's not going to happen_, the Doctor replied silently._ You of all people should know I'm not just going to let you fly off this planet..._

"Can you at least let me have my hands back?" the Doctor shook his wrists to emphasize the point, making the chains rattle loudly. "I sort of need them to work."

"Well, I don't see the harm in that..." the Gonlang moved towards him, raised an arm. The shackles on the Doctor's arms dropped away with a click.

"Thank you."

"Those can stay on," she motioned at the cuffs on his ankles. "Just in case."

"Of course." The Doctor smiled grimly, rubbing his wrists. He shook off his coat, circled his arms to get the circulation going, then moved to put a hand inside his jacket, and the Gonlang hissed, jerking the gun towards him.

"What are you doing!?"

"Oh, relax. I just need my screwdriver If I'm going to fix this." the Doctor reached into his pocket, but his fingers closed on empty air. "Ah."

He had given the sonic screwdriver to Rose. And if the Gonlang didn't know about it, that meant she didn't have it any more; and there was only one other person she would give it to. For the first time, a glimmer of hope ignited in his hearts.

"On second thoughts, maybe I won't need it..."

Right on cue, the door burst open and through it tumbled two familiar figures.

"Stop!" shouted Mickey. He raised his arm to point at the alien, and in his fist was clenched the sonic screwdriver. The Gonlang hissed, bringing the gun around to meet him. Everyone froze.

"Let her go," said Mickey. His voice didn't falter, but the faint tremble in his hand gave him away.

"Or what?" Rose smirked, cocking the gun. "You'll shoot?"

"Let's all just stay calm," the Doctor interjected from the other side of the room. "Violence never solves anything..."

It had no effect. The Doctor could only look on helplessly as Mickey glared at the creature in his best friend's mind, Rose's mobile sticking out of his pocket...

At once, like a brilliant shaft of light, an idea flared in his mind. It was a long shot, but it just might work. His eyes sought out Tituba, hovering uncertainly by the entrance. And somehow, without him saying a word, she knew what to do.

Tituba launched herself towards the Gonlang, grabbing the gun. As the two of them struggled for control, the Doctor called out, "Mickey!"

Mickey saw his outstretched hand and hurled the sonic screwdriver towards it. The Doctor managed to snatch it from the air as it spun towards him, quickly adjusted the settings, and slammed his thumb down on the switch.

Rose's phone started ringing. Mickey pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it in surprise, as the Gonlang flinched in pain. Tituba saw her chance and wrenched the weapon away, sending it skittering across the floor. The enemy didn't notice, too busy using its hands to try and muffle the piercing ring that grew in pitch as the Doctor held his thumb down on the switch. Mickey dropped the phone; he and Tituba clapped their own hands over their ears to deaden the sound, hunching over in pain, and the Doctor found himself folding to his knees, every ounce of his being concentrated on keeping his thumb on the switch.

But pain to them was agony to the Gonlang. The Doctor squinted through narrow eyes, saw it crumple to the ground and lie there, twitching and moaning...

"What's happening?" Mickey screamed over the noise.

"It's using Rose as a refuge," the Doctor shouted back. "If I can make it uninhabitable, it'll try to escape. And with it being so sensitive to psychic waves, a high-pitched noise should do the trick!"

"Will she be safe?" he asked.

"What?"

"Will Rose be safe?" yelled Mickey. The Doctor started to answer, and, as he hesitated, Rose's body suddenly convulsed violently, eyes rolling into her head. Then she slumped over, eyes shut.

"Rose!" shouted Mickey, beginning to drag himself towards her.

"NO!" the Doctor bellowed. He grabbed Rose's phone from the floor and the sound ceased. Slowly, he and Tituba got to their feet. Mickey knelt uncertainly between them and Rose.

"Mickey, don't move." said the Doctor, holding out his hands. "Nobody move!"

Nobody moved. Mickey, kneeling on the floor, saw Rose's eyelids flicker, and was flooded with relief, but resisted the urge to go to her. He looked towards the Doctor, and saw the Time Lord's eyes darting around the room.

"Where is it?" he breathed. "Where did it go? Can anyone see it?"

"No," Mickey replied, and Tituba shook her head. The Doctor carefully lowered his arms, signalling the others to relax, and turned his attention to Rose. Kneeling beside her, he cradled her head in his lap and carefully thumbed open her eyelids, then put two fingers to her neck.

"She's alive," he announced. "Unresponsive. Pulse-rate normal...ish."

"What does that mean," Mickey asked. He leaned forward but the other man waved him out of the way. "What did it do to her?"

"Nothing," the Doctor said. "Not really. Rose wasn't affected; it didn't occupy her mind for long enough. More than a few hours and the host brain starts to die. The damage would be irreparable. They didn't want that, they needed her alive or it doesn't work, so they left it to the last minute. She'll be fine..."

"So why is she unconscious?" Mickey wondered.

"She did it herself. Natural defence mechanism – she sensed the invasion and cut her mind off from harm. Now the threat's gone she should come back."

He leaned over Rose and gently tapped her face.

"Oi, Rose! Wake up."

Rose shifted slightly and mumbled something incomprehensible. The Doctor supported her as she pushed herself up, opening her eyes.

"Doctor?" she croaked.

"That's right," he said soothingly. "I'm here."

"What happened?"

The two of them slowly helped her to her feet, Mickey supporting her weight while the Doctor checked her over for injuries.

"I'm fine, I'm OK. Honestly," she insisted. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on? And what happened to your nose?"

"Oh, this." The Doctor dabbed at it and winced. "Nothing."

"Was it Parris?" she demanded.

"Um." he said. "Not exactly."

He quickly explained his side of the story, and then paused to let Mickey fill in the gaps. It was only when the young man was explaining how he and Tituba had escaped from their cells when they realised there was one missing.

"Where is she?" the Doctor said, and then, more urgently. "Where is she? Did anyone see her leave? Mickey?"

"No, I...she was there. She was just there!"

They circled the room, but although there had been no change in sound from the monotonous drone of the engine turning on its spit, there was no doubt about it; Tituba had vanished.

"It's taken her," the Doctor surmised. "It must be. It lost Rose and went back to Tituba."

"So where is she?" asked Rose. "Where would she go...?"

"I don't know," the Doctor said. He pushed his hands through his hair in desperation. "I don't know, I don't know!"

"I do," said Mickey suddenly. They turned to gape at him, and he flushed. "Well, I think so. What if she looks for Parris? She hurt his kids before. I mean, this thing's upset, it's angry...why not finish what she started?"

"Mickey, you're a genius!" the Doctor grabbed him and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

"But – wait, we don't even know where that is!"

"Yes we do." The Doctor grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. "I left him in the TARDIS. Come on!"

He sprinted out of the room. Rose and Mickey glanced at each other and followed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.**

* * *

The Doctor ran, his way blocked by tree branches, roots and thickets. He leapt and ducked and scraped and fell, long coat catching on twigs and sneakers slipping in mud and leaves. Reaching a clearing in the undergrowth, he paused to catch his breath, glancing over his shoulder to see how the others were faring. Mickey was close behind, dragging a woozy Rose by the hand.

"You OK?" he called as they drew nearer.

"Yeah...'course..." gasped Mickey. "Just out of...interest. Is there always...this much...running?"

"Yes," said Rose queasily.

"Keep going," the Doctor said. "We're nearly there. Come on!"

Meanwhile, Parris had made himself comfortable on the floor of the TARDIS. He had chosen a spot in clear view of Betty's makeshift bed, with his shoulders resting against the edge of the central tower. Being so close to the strange abomination made his head itch, but he had accepted that, as the Doctor himself meant no harm, these instruments probably didn't either. Besides, he would rather be where he could keep an eye on his daughter.

There had been no change in her condition. Parris hadn't really been expecting one; he knew there was little chance unless the Doctor performed some more of his hocus pocus. The only hope was to pray for the girl's soul, and the best place for that would be in his own house, with Betty tucked up safely in bed.

Parris had no sooner made this decision than he was on his feet, scooping his daughter into his arms. He spun round, ready to make a beeline for the door, only to find his way blocked.

"Hello, Samuel," Tituba said, smiling sweetly.

For a moment he was unable to move except to tighten his grip on Betty's limp form, his body automatically twisting to better shield hers. His eyes flicked desperately from side to side; the witch was blocking the exit, but he could see doorways that had to lead to other rooms. Maybe he could find somewhere to hide and wait for the Doctor's return...

Except that she would find him, he knew it. He could see the cold, cruel intent flickering in the dark pools of her eyes.

"Please," Parris barely heard the words as they fell from his lips. "Please, let her live; she's just a child, she can't harm you. Take me, kill me, just let her live."

Tituba looked down at the girl, and Parris could swear she was seeing the room's second occupant for the first time.

"I have no interest in the girl," she admitted with a shrug. "She was a mistake; I surprised the slave girl a few days ago and she couldn't control the power I gave her. Collateral damage, nothing more."

Parris slowly nodded, but anger flared up inside him at the casual tone of her voice. As if his daughter was unimportant! He had gone less than two paces from the bench where Betty had been resting, and he now turned to lay her gently back down, taking a few moments to make sure she was lying comfortably and her hair was pushed clear of her face.

Then he turned and charged at Tituba. It was unexpected, even to him. The Bible condemned violence, especially against women, but he always had trouble controlling his rage. He was still running when, with a flick of her wrist, Tituba sent a beam of energy slashing in his direction. It rolled over Parris like a wave, slamming him onto his back. Tituba took a step towards him until her black skirts rustled against the ground by Parris's head. He squinted up at her, groaning.

"What's the matter, Samuel?" Her voice floated towards him through a dense fog. "Weren't expecting me to fight back? You always liked to hit us when the chores weren't done to your liking. Once gave John a black eye and bloody nose. My husband – not that you ever paid enough attention to know that. I bet you didn't even know his name; you never could tell any of us apart.

"Th – that's not true," he cut in, with effort. "I was busy, raising my daughter. I couldn't spare time for slaves."

"You're right about that," she spat. "I guess I underestimated your intelligence."

"Yes. I mean, no. Please, Tituba..."

"That's not its name." This was a new voice. One that Parris didn't recognize for a moment, but when he did, he was flooded with delirious, irrational relief.

"Doctor," he gasped.

"I'm here."

He managed to turn his head and saw the Doctor some way off, standing at the top of the ramp leading from the doorway. He was alone, two friends nowhere to be seen. His stance was relaxed, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, but his features were set in stone, and his eyes bored into Tituba like flecks of steel.

"Stop it," he said.

Tituba had been looking at him askance, one eye still on her victim, but the Doctor's tone made her turn and give him her full attention.

"Stop it?" she said incredulously. "Is that it?"

The Doctor's mouth twitched. "I have two theories," he began. "One, you're using this whole role-play thing to scare Sammy here. Using the anger you feel inside that 'vessel' of yours to really make him squirm – the 'vengeful slave', very nice. But the problem with that explanation is...why would you want to? Seems like an awful lot of bother for a man you couldn't give two hoots about. You said it yourself – the attack on his daughter was an accident. You've got no "beef" with him, isn't that what you Yanks say?"

He threw a wink at Parris, who was too stunned to move an inch. The Doctor turned his attention back to Tituba.

"Which brings me to my next theory." He was strolling towards her now, hands deep in his pockets, the picture of nonchalance. Parris almost expected him to start whistling. But what he said next was deadly serious. "You're failing. Maybe Tituba's willpower is stronger than you thought; maybe you're just tired after all this body-hopping. Either way, there's a battle raging deep inside that borrowed mind, and the Gonlang half is losing. Tituba – her thoughts, feelings, that anger – is spilling out. And you can't control it."

"You're wrong," she snarled in response. "The girl is weak and useless."

But the Doctor was closer now; close enough to see the beads of sweat standing out on her forehead. He didn't break his stride, didn't even acknowledge that she had spoken.

"So I'll say it one more time," he said. "Stop this."

"Never!" the Gonlang spat. Tituba's eyes were wild, knuckles turning white as they clutched at her skirt.

"Right," the Doctor took a step forward. He didn't appear to move, but his appearance seemed suddenly imposing, fearsome even. His Converse-clad feet were firmly planted, shoulders pushed back to draw himself up to his full six feet.

"I've asked you nicely," he said, voice dangerously quiet. "You've hurt a child, landed innocent people in jail, and almost killed my best friend. Now you're threatening him –" he looked at Parris, "– and even though I don't really care about him, I do care about the future of this world. And you will not have a part in it. Now, are you going to leave quietly or do I have to force you?"

She let out a short laugh. "Ha! As if you could force me to do anything. I know all about you, Time Lord. Too clever for your own good, and merciful to a fault. A flightless angel, afraid to soar."

"You know," said the Doctor thoughtfully, "I'm starting to think the same about you. Not that this conversation isn't fascinating, it's just that I think it might be time for action. You know, time you showed me how much power you actually have over me."

"But I already have!" the Gonlang shrieked. "Look around! Parris incapacitated, Tituba under my control, and your friends nowhere to be seen. Who has the power now, Doctor? Who's in control? Who –"

"Now," shouted the Doctor.

At his word there was a flurry of movement from near the door, and Tituba turned with a cry as she saw what had caused it. Rose and Mickey burst into the TARDIS, with determination in their eyes and a metal object clutched in both of their hands.

Rose cannoned forwards, screaming as she raised the metal object above her head. Before the weary Gonlang could react, Rose had thrown it at her feet. The object, an egg-shaped silver capsule, split into two parts, and a blue mist leaked out. Tituba took a step forwards, only to find the mist impenetrable; like a solid wall in the guise of a thin fog. Her confusion gave Mickey time to dart round behind her and break his capsule open on the floor. The two clouds of mist merged, until the enemy was totally obscured in a cocoon of swirling blue fog.

"Good," said the Doctor absently, busy reaching for something in his pocket. Rose's mobile emerged, along with the sonic screwdriver. The Doctor held the two objects together, pressing the sonic's button down until the phone started to give out a faint keening sound.

"How long've we got?" Rose hurried to his side.

"Not sure," the Time Lord replied. "But this shouldn't take long..."

Sure enough, a few seconds later he seemed to be satisfied. Taking aim, he brought his arm back and threw the phone in a perfect arc, over the top of the fog cloud and into Tituba's cage.

"What now?" called Mickey from the other side of the room, apparently reluctant to venture closer to the alien's prison. "What's gonna happen?"

"Now," the Doctor said, "We wait."

They didn't have to wait long. The fog began to thin; at first Rose was alarmed, until she realised that it had no effect on the strength of the prison. Then the Gonlang's form came into shape, hunched over in pain and with hands clamped to its head. The phone seemed to be giving out the same uncomfortable signal as before, except that this time, the Gonlang had nowhere to go; the blue mist was trapping it in a body that was becoming uninhabitable.

"What's happening to Tituba?" Rose asked suddenly. As the fog continued to clear she could swear there was a line of blood creeping from the girl's nose.

"Don't worry," the Doctor said, then addressed Mickey. "Follow my lead."

He stooped to reach for the capsule Rose had dropped. Mickey followed suit, crouching for his own capsule. Their eyes met; the Doctor nodded slowly, creeping his hand towards the silver object.

Mickey saw him silently mouth the words, _one, two, three_.

They both lunged forwards, snatching the two halves of the cage from the ground on either side of the writhing Gonlang. The fog instantly moved to their will, following as they stood up. The Doctor slowly guided them away from Tituba, and Rose, standing in view of both them and the enemy, could have sworn she saw something moving in the now smaller patch of fog being controlled by her two friends; something that shone with a faint sheen, and caused an itch in the back of Rose's eyes, as if her subconscious knew that what it was looking at wasn't really there.

Then her eyes drifted past them, to where Tituba's body had been twitching in pain, and now had silently slid to the floor. Rose couldn't be sure, but she got the feeling that the creature that had been possessing her was now gone, and was now struggling to be free of the blue mist.

"Doctor?" she whispered, but he didn't hear. The effort of holding the Gonlang steady between the two capsules was taking all of his strength, and he could sense Mickey was also failing. With one last burst of energy, he shoved his half of the confinement towards Mickey with both hands. One last shudder of resistance, and the two halves snapped together, swallowing the Gonlang and the blue mist out of sight.

There was a brief moment of absolute quiet, before a shockwave radiated from the egg clutched between the Doctor and Mickey. It knocked them both off their feet. Rose saw it coming and was halfway to the ground when it hit, so she was just about conscious enough to see Parris crumple.

Just before the world went dark she could have sworn she felt a laugh tickle the back of her mind, as if the Gonlang was getting one last small slice of revenge.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.**

* * *

Mickey woke up to a sight he was reluctantly getting accustomed to: the fuzzy outline Doctor and Rose as they peered down at him in concern.

"Whuh...?" he said eloquently.

"He's fine." The Doctor straightened up with a grimace.

"Thanks very much," said Mickey, or at least tried to. What actually came out of his mouth was: "Thunks vury mush."

"Oh, come here," Rose hugged him tight as the Doctor strolled out of view.

"What happened?" Mickey asked, managing to form actual words this time.

"The Doctor said there was some leftover psychic energy that sort of, bubbled, as we trapped the Gonlang in that silver egg thing." Rose told him.

"I actually think I explained it a bit better than that, thanks," the Doctor called. Rose grinned.

"So it knocked us all out? What about Tituba? And Parris?"

"They'll be fine." The Doctor reappeared. "They'll wake up in a few hours with a headache and a gift for languages they didn't have two days ago, but they'll be fine."

"But...won't that look a bit suspicious?" asked Mickey, as Rose helped him to his feet.

"Nah. Tituba's foreign, and Parris is a man of God. It's amazing what people will turn a blind eye to if you give them a vague enough explanation. Now stop prattling and give me a hand, will you?"

He gestured behind him, to where Parris's limp form was still sprawled on the floor of the TARDIS. The Doctor was already scooping Betty into his arms, leaving Rose and Mickey to handle the heavy man. Tituba was already gone; presumably the others had moved her while they were waiting for Mickey to regain consciousness.

"But what happens when they wake up?" Mickey fretted as he draped one of Parris's arms across his shoulders to lift him.

"Most likely Parris won't remember anything – or just enough to pass it off as a particularly vivid dream. But Tituba was exposed to the threat for far longer. Then again, I don't think she'll be much of a problem."

"What do you mean?" Rose helped Mickey heave Parris onto his feet, staggering slightly under his dead weight, and they began to drag him towards the door of the TARDIS.

"You'll see," the Doctor winked cryptically before bobbing out of the door, Betty in tow. Rose sighed, and the two companions followed, hauling Parris with difficulty into Salem's hazy pre-dawn.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

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**Parris woke up in bed. From the sun filtering through the window he guessed it was about seven in the morning – most of the townsfolk would be up and about by now, working quickly so as to avoid the hottest part of the day. He should be getting ready for the morning service; why had he overslept?

It might have had something to do with the odd dream he had been having, he reasoned. Although he was having trouble placing the details, his thoughts kept coming back to a stranger in a striped suit, and a mysterious blue box.

He started in surprise at a timid knock on his bedroom door. "Mr. Parris?"

Parris sat up as a slave's familiar voice drifted through the wood. She had been in the dream, he was sure of it. She had...no, he couldn't remember. He shook off the feeling of disquiet and swung his legs over the low bed.

"Yes, Tituba, I'll be right there," he called back. "My breakfast is ready, I assume."

"Yes, Mr. Parris," she replied quietly, and then he heard her footsteps hasten away from the door. It took a few minutes for Parris to dress and comb his hair, and scratch at the stubble on his chin. He decided to shave after breakfast; he could smell bacon and eggs frying, and realized he was ravenous.

Betty was absent when he sat down at the table; Tituba explained that she had woken up early to help a neighbour with some chores. She watched his reaction carefully, and was relieved to see he didn't bat an eyelid, too busy bolting his first meal in days, although he wasn't aware of the fact. It was a good job she had prepared plenty of food.

"John is there too," she added, but he ignored this, as usual having no interest in the whereabouts of her husband.

Tituba was laying another plate of bacon and eggs in front of him when there was a sharp knock at the door. She answered it, and was surprised to see Wallace, younger of the two Hunt policemen, nervously twisting his cap in his hands and shuffling his feet. Tituba invited him in, and offered him a drink, which he declined. Her hospitality only seemed to increase his agitation.

"Um, good morning to you," he mumbled at the room in general, having trouble meeting anyone's eye, then cleared his throat and seemed to regain his confidence. "Sorry to disturb your breakfast, minister."

"That's fine," Parris said, taking another bite. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Um," said Wallace again. He glanced at Tituba and hesitated. She took the hint and left the room, pulling the door to behind her. She peered through the crack and watched as Wallace replaced his cap, took it off and rested it on the table, then knocked it to the floor when he tried to pick it back up.

"Spit it out, boy!" Parris snapped. "I'm running late as it is!"

"Sorry," the young man mumbled. He grabbed his hat, straightened up, then launched into a clearly rehearsed speech. "It seems a lot of people have visited the station stating they feel threatened or uncomfortable by your slave, Tituba. And since the mix-up last week, it has fallen to me to sort this out until my brother is re-instated..."

"Re-instated? What are you talking about?" Although she couldn't see her owner's face clearly, she could hear the confusion in his tone, and could imagine his expression.

"Well, the hanging – almost hanging – of that foreign girl, Rose Tyler." Wallace explained. "Sentencing without a proper trial and all that. It usually isn't a problem, but this particular girl, well, survived, and Andrew is facing the consequences."

"He has been deposed?"

"Suspended," Wallace corrected. "Temporarily, we hope. But in the meantime I will be taking over his duties..."

"I see." There was a silence. Tituba could hear Parris faintly chewing, and then swallowing. Then he snapped. "What does this have to do with my slaves?"

"Um, it's just the one slave, sir. Tituba. Well, people are having difficulty _remembering_ what happened on that day, and the days following. But they all have the feeling that the girl was somehow involved..."

"Involved? Involved how?"

Tituba was having difficulty breathing. She couldn't resist leaning forward to spy her master's face, and accidentally leaned against the door. Narrowly avoiding falling, she stumbled against the wall and fell into the room.

"Tituba!" Whatever his countenance before, Parris now wore an expression of total shock, and it was mirrored in Wallace's features.

"Er...hello," she said, trying to smooth down her dress and look innocent all at once. "I was just coming to check..."

"You've been listening?" demanded Parris, and judging from his scowl, there was no point arguing. She nodded. "Well then, what do you say? Do you have something to do with what Hunt says?"

Tituba paused, then shook her head. "No, master. I spent that day with you, don't you remember? We were organizing the wine cellar. I dusted each bottle and you chose a few samples to bring to the mayor's dinner. We didn't hear about the girl's hanging until we emerged hours later." She could see him trying to fit her words into the jigsaw of disjointed memories in his head. "You do remember, don't you?"

Parris's eyes narrowed; she could almost see him scrabbling for the memory she had supplanted. Finally he said, "No, Tituba. I don't remember that."

They were both looking at her. Tituba gazed from one to the other, helplessly trying out scenarios in her head. If she denied involvement, they would think she was lying. And if she told the truth, they would think she was insane, not to mention it would put the Doctor and his friends in danger if they ever returned. She had seconds to make a decision; there was only one thing to do.

"Yes," she said, and slumped, as if relieving a weight from her shoulders. "Yes, it was me. I messed with your memory; with everyone's memory. It was an accident."

"You..." Parris had gone milk-white. He pushed his plate away, as if even eating something she had prepared might affect him.

"Yes." She sighed. "I've been conversing with the Devil. I'm an enemy of God. I fly around at night on a broom casting spells on people!"

She hadn't noticed her voice growing louder, until she stopped speaking, and felt the room fill with silence. Parris had frozen in his chair, face losing colour with every word. The front door was still open, and there were people stopping in the street to peer inside. Tituba felt their stares, heard them whispering to one another. Her head swam as the heat seemed to press down on her, and she barely managed to force the dreaded words from her dry mouth.

"I'm a Witch," she said quietly, and fainted.


	16. Epilogue

**The end! Finally...:)  
**

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.**

**

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**Tituba leant against the wall of her cell. The sun was setting outside and shadows were creeping towards her across the stone floor. Without looking, the girl who was once a slave and was now a prisoner raised her hand and made a small mark on the wall beside her with the scrap of flint clutched in her fingers. It had been 398 days since Parris had locked her in here; one mark for every day. She had nothing to do any more but count.

Half-dozing – there was nothing left to do but sleep – she let her mind wander back to the last time she had seen the Doctor. He had promised to help her. She had been disappointed that he hadn't come back, but she wasn't surprised. She was only a slave, and a foreigner to boot.

Her trance was broken by the seldom-heard sound of footsteps coming down the narrow corridor between the rows of cells. Tituba didn't bother opening her eyes, expecting the person to walk past, but after a few moments the footsteps stopped in front of her.

"Tituba?" said Wallace Hunt. Although he had been made Sheriff nearly a year earlier, he still insisted on addressing the prisoners by name. He often came to visit her, knowing how lonely she was, her husband having been bought months ago and leaving her there. Tituba missed him, and was grateful for Wallace's visits; without that small courtesy, she thought she would forget who she was.

"Yes?" Her voice was rusty with misuse. She couldn't see much of him, as he was blocking the light from the only window, but could hear him rattling his keys. A few seconds later the door swung open with a creak.

"Come on," he said. "You're free to go."

"What?" She must have heard him wrong.

"I'm letting you go," he explained. "He's paid the bail fee. You can go."

"So how much is my life worth?" she asked, smiling her small half-smile.

Wallace, as usual, was unsure what to say, and settled with the truth. "Seven dollars."

She nodded dumbly, and used the wall to drag herself to her feet. Wallace reached into the cell and carefully helped her up, feeling the bones in her arms through her paper-thin dress. He had tried to treat the prisoners well, but with no exercise, and the little food the rest of the village could afford to spare, there was only so much his authority could manage.

The woman was unresponsive as he helped her out of the cell and supported her. The only sound was the scuffle of their footsteps as they inched down the corridor. Tituba didn't even speak as Wallace leant her against the wall in his office while he rooted around in his desk drawer for the key to her handcuffs. He supposed she was still in shock.

"There," he said gently as he unlocked the shackles round her wrists. "Here you go."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

"Wh..." her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Where do I go?"

He shook his head. "Don't ask me, ask the ones who saved you."

Her eyes widened as he motioned to the door. Two people stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the sunset. Tituba's breath caught in her throat as she went to meet them.

"Hello, Tituba," said the Doctor. Rose was standing behind him, smiling.

"Doctor!" Tituba flung herself at him. Grinning, he caught her. She was light as a feather in his arms.

"It's good to see you," said Rose when the Doctor had let go, and took Tituba's hands in her own. She, too, was shocked to see how thin the other woman had become.

"I can't believe you came back." Tituba turned to look at Wallace, who was leaning against the open door with a small smile on his lips. She beamed at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, giving a casual salute, and then he stepped back inside. Tituba looked back at her rescuers.

"Where's Mickey?" she wondered.

"He's gone," said the Doctor quietly. "Gone home."

"Oh." Tituba felt disappointed and couldn't work out why.

"So, what now?" asked Rose, looking at the Doctor. "Or, should I say, where?"

"I've got a few ideas..." he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and wandering off. The others hurried after him, the Doctor continuing to talk as if they were still beside him.

"There's a planet on the edge of the galaxy I've heard good things about – populated by humanoids, same general atmosphere as Earth, but slavery's been abolished for eighteen generations. You'll fit right in" He winked at Tituba.

"What do you mean, _planet_?" she asked. He didn't seem to hear.

"They're famous for making _Bezuleum_. It's a type of metal that responds to air currents; you can use it to predict the weather. You can get your mum a holiday present, Rose. It's about time we swung by the Tyler Estate."

"Really?" Rose beamed and slipped an arm through his. They both grinned at Tituba.

"Wait and see," said the Doctor, before she even opened her mouth. Rose grinned.

They came to the TARDIS a few minutes later.

"Ah, here we are," said the Doctor, and began turning out his pockets as he looked for the keys.

"I don't understand," Tituba said to Rose.

"You will," she promised. Then: "Doctor, you are hopeless. Here."

The Doctor took the key from her hand with a quick grin. "Why, thank you."

He opened the door and held it open for them to enter. Rose slipped past him, but Tituba hesitated.

"Don't be afraid," he said gently, but she shook her head.

"It's not that," she said, shyly. "I – I want to say thank you."

He shook his head. "Thank _you_, Tituba Indian."

"But...you gave me my life back. I'd be dying in prison if it wasn't for you."

"No you wouldn't," he said. He leaned in and lowered his voice confidentially. "Don't tell Rose I said this, 'cause she'd laugh; but some people are destined for greatness. Someone like Parris is never going to change, and never going to change anything else. Yes, in a hundred years people will remember his name, but it's for bringing horror and bloodshed to a hundred other human beings."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "You might not be special, Tituba Indian, but you are a good person. And good people deserve to see the things we've seen. Come with me, and you will."

He jumped inside the TARDIS and held out his hand.

"You might need to be special to change history, but you don't need to be special to change the world."

So Tituba left the world she knew, the world that had nearly destroyed her, and flew towards a new home across the stars.


End file.
